


i watched as time ran out

by cracklesnaple



Series: mcyt shorts [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (most likely at least), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Mistaken Identity, Mystery, Paradox, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Time Traveler Karl Jacobs, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Web Series: Tales from the SMP, i'm changing the canon compliant tag, identity crisis, just a bit because i have many theories that aren't canon soooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cracklesnaple/pseuds/cracklesnaple
Summary: A deeper retelling of the Tales from the SMP series focused on Karl's thoughts and fears regarding this poisonous land.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, light - Relationship
Series: mcyt shorts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094585
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	1. a village of madness

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing a mcyt fic that isn't tommy-centric? It probably won't happen again. That being said, enjoy this small series!!

Karl’s head pounds, his eyes flutter open into the darkness of night, made darker by the fact that he’s in an enclosed space with no lighting. Ender, his head hurt so bad. Pain spiked in random intervals, lancing through his skull and making his eyes water. He tears off his crystal goggles, throwing them off to the side - he winces when he hears them collide with the wall but he knows they’re tough enough that they won’t be damaged.

The time stream had pushed him out inside his library and, for that, Karl is thankful. At least in this closed off space filled with the smell of books and paper, he is able to let himself feel for the old souls of the server.

He curls in on himself, his hands fist his shirt above his heart and rests his head on his knees. Sobs rip through his throat, the cries ricocheting across the small room. His body rocks itself, trying to calm himself down but the shuddering sobs won’t stop, won’t leave him alone.

It’s not the first time he’s traveled somewhere horrific - this server seemed to be soaked in blood and terror - but this time was different somehow. Karl couldn’t even do anything, couldn’t try to save the villagers from being murdered or help persuade the terrified civilians that the poor orphan was not the murderer. Usually he could at least try to stop these deaths from happening, he could tell himself he did all that he could to save at least one person.

Not this time. This time he was forced to be a spectator, not able to raise a finger to help those people. Karl knows, he knows that he can’t save these people, that these events are far gone and set in stone. He knows the only purpose for his abilities is to save the history of the server and pray that he can give his friends a better life.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though. That the fact he can’t save anyone doesn’t spear him through his heart and doesn’t keep him up until late becomes early. Karl has dealt with the pain from these travels since they first started and he wouldn’t give them up for the world, but he still yearns to be able to tell someone else. Maybe he could tell one of his fiances so he won’t feel so alone all the time.

His sobs taper off, leaving his body even exhausted before. Karl wants to stay here, stay curled up so he doesn’t have to face the world but he can already feel the memories slipping away from him, thoughts becoming harder to grasp. So, he hauls himself to his feet and snatches the closest book to him and grabs a spare quill laying around.

The words come easy, they always do right after he travels. It’s the time when his memory is the freshest, when the pain and heartbreak still tear through his body and leave him weak. Karl writes the tale of the village that went mad. A village where blood was spilt for no reason other than the pleasure of the killers.

He tells the story of Helga, the carefree - if not scandalous - woman who never failed to make the others laugh. Of Cornelius the Wise, the first one who was mercilessly killed but his wisdom lives on. Of the little orphan, Robin, who was forced to witness the death of their only father figure and then pushed into a pit of lava by those they thought were friends.

Water marks drip onto the pages, staining the edges of the paper with salty residue. The tears stain his cheeks, clawing lines in Karl’s exhausted and gaunt face. He finished the tale, another sob threatening to make itself known but his body is too tired to let these emotions consume him. Now, a numbness starts to take over his body and he finds it an improvement to the overwhelming pain and sadness.

The book is closed after Karl signs his name onto it, the old magics sealing it and preventing it from being edited or harmed. It’s placed into a glass case to preserve it. Above the tale rests a blank piece of paper where Karl will draw a piece to give a visual aspect to the event he just lived through. He isn’t the best artist, not by a long shot - Karl’s artwork will never compare to Sam’s building plans or Purpled’s landscapes - but he considers his work pretty decent.

Once the book has been safely secured, Karl flicked open a chest tucked away in the corner of his library for safe keeping. He pulls out a well worn purple book. On its cover is a green spiral in the shape of a square. With gentle fingers, he strokes the familiar symbol, the same one that adorns the front of his sweatshirt and the back of his coat. He isn’t sure where he got it from - that memory has been long gone for ages now - but it never fails to bring him a sense of comfort.

Flipping it open, he flicks through the pages with text already written on them. Once he finds a clean page, he dips the quill into ink before writing his next diary entrance. Karl writes a little about the village, but he focuses on putting down things he wants to remember, at all costs.

He puts down his fiances’ names, Quackity and Sapnap, and all the little tidbits about them that he can remember at the top of his head. The fact that Sapnap’s favorite color is purple, not orange how everyone thinks, and how Quackity always acts ridiculous because he wants to make people laugh because Ender knows that he didn’t get to live his childhood.

Karl writes who he is; his name, how old he is, his favorite memories of the server. He talks about his travels and how his duty is to protect his library. Most of the people on the server were forced to be fighters, but Karl has always been more of a watcher and that’s his job now. He was called to this server so he could preserve history so it stops repeating.

A loud voice calling his name from above startles him out of his writing. Karl jots down a final sentence before snapping the book closed and shoving it back into the chest. _‘DO NOT FORGET WHO YOU ARE!'_

He climbs his way up to the first floor, the sudden brightness from the sun spilling into the building from the windows makes his eyes water but Karl blinks the tears away. There’s Quackity, standing near his windows in a ridiculous outfit like usual. It’s not as bad as it could be, all things considered, seeing as the server has started to get colder in preparation for the winter.

Quackity is wearing a bright green turtleneck, the color almost hurts Karl’s eyes, and a neon orange sweater vest. Karl doesn’t even know where his fiance got such a ridiculous outfit but the sight brought a smile to his eyes. He opens the door and the man wasted no time in sweeping him off his feet. Karl giggles, clutching the soft material of the sweater vest in his hands and his world blurs around him.

“Where are we going?” He asks, but only gets a cryptic response in return. Karl lets himself be carried off in his fiance’s arms. Things might not be perfect right now, evident from the heavy bags under his eyes, but surrounded by his loved ones, he’s able to forget for a while.


	2. where everything is okay

This is the happiest Karl has been in a long time. In a really, really long time. He’s here, at a beach surrounded by friends of new and old and he wouldn’t change it for the world. (He ignores the part of his mind that yells at him, telling him this isn’t real. This isn’t his timeline, he’ll never get to experience this kind of peace again.) Even now, he can hear his friend’s unapologetic and unrestrained laughter ringing through his ears and he decides that it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

The sun beats down on his face, warming his skin pleasantly. For once since the first days Karl had moved to the server, the air isn’t polluted with ash and gunpowder. When he breathes, the air is clear and crisp, heavy with the scent of salt from the ocean nearby. There are birds chirping as they fly around the island, singing their songs devoid of any pain or suffering.

Sand is sprayed in his face and Karl splutters, bolting up. Above him, Sapnap roars in laughter, bent over as he gasps in breaths in between guffaws. There’s sand in his mouth now, sticking uncomfortably to his wet skin but none of that wipes the smile off of his face.

He tackles his fiancé to the ground, wrestling each other as pearls of laughter fall from their mouths. They just end up with more sand in uncomfortable places and their outfits coated with dirt. Karl falls back onto the sand, letting out a grunt when his fiancé (not his fiancé, not this version of him) lands on him.

Pale blue only marred by the occasional light gray clouds greet him as his head falls back into the sand. The grains shift annoyingly beneath his hair and Sapnap’s dark locks tickle against his stomach, the feeling slightly diminished by his light, flowery button up. Sapnap tugged on his hand before weaving their fingers together.

Ender, how Karl wished he could stay here forever. This is the life he wants everyone on the SMP to have, being able to have fun with their friends and never having to worry about being stabbed in the back. He grips his fiancé’s hand with a vengeance as if it were his only lifeline to this world. In all honesty, it might as well be.

“Guys! Guys!” Ranboo’s excited voice breaks them out of their cozy daydream. Karl leans his head back, the enderman hybrid appearing upside down in his vision, a huge grin stretching across mismatched skin. In his hands is a gleaming purple book. Magic wafts off of the novel, signaling that the original writer had intended to protect it from harm. “Look what I found!”

It’s the diary of a pirate from long ago, speaking of a lost treasure and an adventure to be found. Of course, all of their ears perked up at that, immediately hooked on the idea of finding riches and treasures with each other.

Their day is filled with bright laughter and the salty spray of the sea. In the end, after countless hours of dealing with Dream and George's playful bickering and dying of laughter at Ranboo and Sapnap's pirate accents, the group makes it to the final clue.

Karl follows Bad into the hollowed out cave, knowing the others were behind him as well. In the end, it's Ranboo who digs up the rotting chest. In it, there are emeralds and gold piled high and, resting on top of the mound is a gleaming purple sword that reeks of old magic.

Something about the sword rubs Karl the wrong way, he can't help but think there's something wrong with it. (If he notices the Ranboo in his own timeline suddenly procures a legendary sword, he tries hard to forget.) Its magic curls up Karl's arms, lighting his skin with static electricity that sends his nerves on overdrive.

The others don't seem to notice the dark feeling coming off of the sword and he watches, listless and quiet, as the group cheers Ranboo on. The boy - he looks so much younger than the Ranboo Karl knows - thrusts the sword into the air dramatically before they're off, chasing each other once again.

Night comes quickly after that and, with the diminishing sunlight, Karl's joyful mood disappears as well. He feels the itching in his bones and knows what it means. There's only time for a brief goodbye to his fiancé from another timeline before Karl is rushing to the other side of the beach, intent to not let the other glimpse the time stream. No one has seen Karl come and go and, even if this was a different timeline all together, he isn't about to risk his friend's safety because of his own carelessness.

By the time he makes it to the other end of the shore, his mind and body are screaming at him. Nerves ringing out in the familiar pain of his body being torn apart. It always gets like this when he spends too long in any time period that isn't his present.

Purple and green swirl suddenly in front of him, impossible wind picking up and blowing his hair into his eyes. He sighs heavily, feeling the pull of the vortex down to his bones. The feeling washes over him, electricity coats his skin and makes his hair stand up. He fastens crystalized blue goggles over his eyes to protect them from the time stream before he’s sucked in. Karl will never get used to the feeling of traveling through the time vortex, it’s swirling worlds and time periods all mixed into a constrained stream.

With a final glance behind him, the sounds of this timeline's citizens creeping over to him, Karl steps into the stream. Colors swirls around him dizzyingly, flashes of his past, present, and future flowing around him at such a force his head pounds violently.

Thankfully, the trips are never long - just extremely taxing to both his body and mind - and the next thing Karl knows, he's sprawled out in the middle of a field. He knows where he is, the time stream dumping him out relatively close to his small base with his hidden library.

Picking himself up, he brushes off the dirt and grass stains on his outfit before making his way into the building to change. After he finishes retelling the events of the day and changing into an outfit that doesn't make him look crazy - seeing as the weather's slowly easing into winter - and decides to meet up with Sapnap. It feels like he hasn't seen his fiancé in weeks - his real fiancé - and Karl's in dangerous need of some cuddles right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the Beach Episode! Ofc I had to make it more angsty than it was!
> 
> Love you guys! Enjoy and here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cracklesnapple1) if you want it.


	3. are we all just stories in the end

The room is suffocating, ash and smoke sticking to his throat and cutting off his oxygen. Isaac (Isaac? Who’s Isaac? His name is Karl…. Right?) coughs violently, feeling skin tear at the force of it and he is forced to disregard the blood that trickles from his mouth. There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving this body the strength it doesn’t have anymore.

Isaac leans heavily against Charles, the only one left of their small group. He remembers sunny days fishing, bright laughter floating over salty seas and the constant smell of fish. Isaac remembers the day Charles was born, he is the youngest out of all of them. The boy’s parents were always so sweet and had such gentle souls, it’s no wonder that their son turned out the same way. (How does he know this? He’s never met a Charles, never heard of these people? Who are they? Who is _he_? He doesn’t know, doesn’t know _doesn’t know_.) He yearns for those days in this unforgiving room filled to the brim with bubbling lava.

They’re hundreds of meters down beneath the surface of the ocean but Isaac can’t see any water anymore, can’t see even the hint of anything living in this room besides him and Charles. The only evidence of where they are is the crushing weight from the sea and the steady taste of terror in his mouth.

“Should I try?” Charles asks, his voice so young, too young to be stuck in this place and being chased down by a madman. He shakes his head, he won’t let this boy die for him if he can stop it. Isaac pats his hand against Charles' arm before stepping up to the first step in the parkour.

Parkour has never been his strong suit - obviously, he spends his days with a line in the water - but he has more experience with it than young Charles. Isaac’s legs are heavy with lead, his stomach with dread, as he forces himself to take the first leap. He lands against hard stone with a grunt and repeats this until he’s near the end.

His foot slips on the last jump, crashing his momentum until the only thing keeping him from falling into the lava below are his weakening hands. Isaac grips the edge of the stone, praying to all the gods, new and old, that he’ll make it through this, if only to see Charles make it out of this accursed place. Somehow, he’s able to pull himself up, muscles straining under the effort, and then he’s pressed against warm stone, limbs still shaking with exertion and adrenaline.

He hears Charles’ cheers from across the room and Isaac feels a small, strained smile spread across his lips at the boys’ excitement. There’s a rotting barrel buried in the side of the wall and Isaac doesn’t hesitate to haul it open. Inside is a lever, but no book.

Somehow the trip back to Charles is easier than the first part and soon, he’s face to face with the boy and safe across the lava. The room they’re looking for is found quickly, a lever is placed and a shrine is shown.

Isaac shivers. There’s something about this room with it’s strange cutouts and thick atmosphere. A memory pushes at his mind, a friend, a foe, a monster wearing a familiar face, carnage and gunpowder. Searing pain lances through his head and Isaac stumbles.

“Isaac?” Charles asks but that’s not his name. He’s not Isaac? Who is Isaac? Who is this person in front of him? He’s not he’s nothe’snothe’snot - He doesn’t understand. What is this place? Why is he here?

_“No one leaves Mizu alive.”_ The words are distorted, crackling at random syllables and ~~Isaac’s~~ his heart lurches, bile coats his throat. There’s a man in the shadows, gleaming yellow and purple eyes promising a painful death and he scrambles backwards, the boy hot at his heels.

A blink, and there’s a sword cutting through Charles’ life, red soaks brown clothing and the boy slumps forwards, held up only by the protruding metal. A voice screams the boy’s name in anguish and the ceiling’s falling. Water swirls around him, filling his lungs and constricting his air. Something drips out his mouth, too sticky to be water and he’s dying. Dying to the eyes above him, to the power in his veins that slowly poisons his mind.

He wakes with a violent lurch, chest heaving with breathless gasps and black spots dance across his vision. Blood coats his hands, warming pale skin even as his body is dunked in ice. His arms wrap around his middle, as if trying to stem the violent flow of blood from the wound. The image of Charles, mouth open as blood trickles out of it and eyes open wide with surprise.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he loses himself in apologizing to the boy who died but has yet to be born. Something shifts next to him, upsetting his balance as he rocks himself, movements too sluggish with blood loss.

“Karl?” a voice asked to his left, sounding distantly familiar but he can’t figure out how he knows it. Who’s Karl? Is that him? Is that his name? He thought he was Isaac, not Karl.

Other hands rest on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Karl, hey,” the same voice demands. There’s a shake in the voice, barely heard over his own stream of apologies. “Hey, look at me.”

He can’t, he can’t. He can’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to see Charles’ dead body and his own killer.

“Yes you can. Open your eyes, Karl. Come back to me.” There are hands in his hair, running through ~~dark brown~~ dirty blond locks, fingernails scratch against his scalp in a soothing manner. The person continues to speak, whispering soft words until his own mouth quiets and his rocking stops. He leans more into the feeling, an arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him close to a chest.

“That’s right, good job,” the voice whispers, and it’s like something in his brain clicks. He remembers who he is. Karl Jacobs. Time traveler, though he can’t tell anyone about that, and the fiancé of Quackity and Sapnap. His heart sinks, tears rise to his eyes. This was the longest a slip had lasted. Usually, he’s able to remember who he is, where he is, within a few moments.

Karl curls into Sapnap’s chest, hands clear of blood and his stomach intact. His fiancé wraps his arms around his back, letting Karl hide in his embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, unable to stop the flood of guilt.

Sapnap presses a kiss to Karl’s hair. “There’s nothing to apologize for, sweetheart,” his fiance reassures him, running his hands up and down Karl’s arms. “You can’t control it. Just know we’ll always be here to bring you back, yeah?”

He nods and wonders how he ended up with such amazing fiancés to take care of him. Speaking of that - “Where’s Quack?” Karl mumbles and feels more than hears Sapnap chuckle.

“Behind you.” Karl turns, and yep. Sure enough, Quackity is spread out on the other side of the bed, still out cold even with the commotion of Karl’s nightmare. He laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation. “He really does sleep like the dead.”

“He does,” Karl nods. They’re silent again, his eyes start to close as Sapnap continues to run his hands through his hair. He’s being moved, Sapnap manhandling him until they’re laying down with Karl’s head resting on his fiancé’s chest, just above his heart.

He falls asleep listening to the steady thrum of Sapnap’s heart and Quackity’s quiet snores, dreaming of the day where his brain no longer worked against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO!! That wild west episode though!!! The ending was so good!! Karl is so talented wth! Anyways, this is probably my favorite chapter yet. I just love Mizu so much and the concept behind it is *chef's kiss* immaculate. As always, feel free to leave theories in the comments and comments/kudos in general! Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cracklesnapple1) if you wanna keep up to date of my fics. 
> 
> Love you all and stay safe! <3


	4. the aftermath of a dance

Karl doesn’t remember how old he is anymore. Sure, his body shows he’s in his twenties - neither old nor young - but his mind says something different. He has lived many lives, been many people. Most people only get the change to be one person their entire lives, but Karl has stacks upon stacks of books that depicts his adventures. Time doesn’t exist to him. Or, it exists too much within him. He lives day to day just like anyone else, but those days take course over thousands of years instead of a few hours.

He wakes up, his memories harder to grasp a little more every day. His head pounds, too many tales and deaths and lives to keep straight. The room he’s in is a mess, with books piled to the low ceiling and others protected behind glass. Karl groans, hisses as his joints pop when he struggles to his feet. He must’ve fallen asleep after writing his latest diary entry.

There’s a persistent pain in his abdomen, his mind screaming that he’s in pain, that he’s in trouble. The breath gets knocked out of him, the force of the pain forcing him to his knees.

 _“There’s nothing there,”_ Karl assures himself, even as his hands move to check. There’s nothing, no mark of the sword he knew had killed him only hours ago. _“You’re fine. You’re alive. You remember.”_

The words have become his mantra, a saying he tells himself when the inevitable happens and he’s forced through time or back out of it. Karl wishes he had some way of controlling it, hopes that the discovery (remembrance? He wasn’t sure) of the Inbetween will help him. He doesn’t know how much longer his body and mind will be able to keep up being thrown through time.

Once his mind calms down - the phantom pain is still there, will always be there, it’s just another consequence of his abilities - he picks himself up again. Karl roots through a nearby chest, digs out a sparkling book and flips through its pages. It’s the newest one, talks of a horrible party and the people who got in the way of a threat larger than they knew.

It makes Karl sick, bile swims to his throat and he forces himself to return the book to its place. The times where the places he’s traveled have been directly correlated with present events are few and far in-between, but this one scares Karl the most.

For months now the egg has been growing, growing in power and persuasion. It has sunk it’s claws, it’s toxic ideals, into too many of his friends and Karl is worried that it might be too late to get it back. He wonders what happened to Billiam and his butler, if they ever escaped the egg’s clutches or fell deeper into its hypnotic hunger.

Karl wants to know what he’s supposed to do with this information. If he’s supposed to carry the burden by himself, knowing that all of his friends turn into fairy tales and urban legends, destined for heartbreak and betrayal. Or, is he supposed to bring them all together somehow? To stop whatever has infected these lands with anger and brutality from allowing it to destroy his friends even more than it has.

He thinks about Mizu while he leaves his small library. (He needs to move it soon. He can’t forget the warning. Danger’s coming and he has to protect the history.) Remembers Cletus and Benji and Charles and even Ranbob who is such an ugly comparison to the man who used to be a friend to Karl. The outfit he wore while posing as Isaac sits buried in a chest, the fabric mocking him almost. He can’t bring himself to look at it anymore, not after he watched everyone die and then suffered through his first death and the hands of an estranged zealot.

Ender, his head hurts. It hurts so bad, all the time. It feels like someone’s pounding at his head. Pound, pound, pound. Knock, knock. Who’s there? All the memories he can’t remember and all the events he’s already forgotten about.

 _“Shut up,”_ Karl hisses at those voices, the ones so insistent that he’s a failure, that he’s failing memory is his own fault. _“Shut up, shut up, shut upshutupshutu-”_

“Karl?”

A voice, very obviously not his or inside his head. He jerks his head up, tired eyes blinking back spots from the sudden brightness of the sun. Somehow he made it outside, not even realizing he had moved from his library. Black hair pushed out of their face with a white bandana and a familiar hoodie.

“Sapnap?” It feels like it’s been ages since Karl saw his fiancé. The shape of his jaw with the slight stubble, the golden hoops Karl had gifted him when he first proposed. Another person rises to the forefront of his mind without his permission. Soft, intentionally messy hair sweeping across a white mask. The white shirt stained with blood from a crazy butler. He shakes those thoughts away.

A hand cups his face, Sapnap’s thumb rubs the darkened skin beneath his eyes. “When’s the last time you slept, Karl?” his fiancé asks and Karl knows that the downturn in his mouth means he’s concerned. The last thing he wants is to make his loved ones worried. (He knows that’s impossible. The people in these lands care far more than they should.) “You look terrible. And is your hair lighter than normal?”

“Wow, thanks,” Karl drawls out, the lilting tone indicating he wasn’t serious but the playful words only got a brief smile from the other. He pauses, takes in what his fiancé just asked. Karl tries to drag a few strands of his hair into his eyes to see. It’s no use, his hair is too short to see anything. He sighs. “I’m okay, I promise. I just haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights.”

Sapnap is quiet for a long time and Karl leans further into his touch. His fiancé seems to pick up on his need for comfort and pulls him into his arms. Karl snuggles into the other’s chest.

“Why don’t we go see Quackity and have a chill day?” Sapnap suggests and Karl nods without thought, desperate to be surrounded by his fiancés and even a moment's reprieve from his hidden life. He stays wrapped in Sapnap’s arms for a few moments longer before they’re making their way to Quackity’s house.

Karl doesn’t know when the next time he’ll travel is, doesn’t know if he’ll end up in the past or future or as himself or someone else. But, he does know that everything he does is for the better of those he loves and cares about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Masquerade episode was literally so good. I'm a sucker for some good fashion, a murder mystery, and amazing lore. Like always, feel free to comment with theories/anything really and leave a kudos if you enjoyed reading this! Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cracklesnapple1) for anyone who wants it! 
> 
> Love you all and stay safe! <3


	5. the moment of a paradox

There’s something wrong. He doesn’t know what, but there’s lead in his throat that he can’t get rid of. The moment he was dropped into this lawless town, Karl can feel the strange energy in the air settling heavy on his tongue. It might be because the first two people he locks eyes with are the cowboy versions of his fiancés and seem to be harassing an innocent bartender. (He adamantly ignores the part of him that wants to laugh at the scene - both his fiancés have always been more than a little hotheaded.) Of course, they look different - they always do but Karl recognizes his soulmates in every timeline - where Quackity has black hair, Jack has messy brown locks and is taller than normal but his outfit is just as ridiculous as always with an obnoxious brown cowboy hat, a deep blue button up covered by a brown leather vest that has tassels on the bottom. Sapnap - Mason, as this man is called - has a similar hat on and wears a gray long sleeve with a black vest and a dark green handkerchief tied around his neck. All in all, his fiancé’s look much better in western clothing than he thought they would.

He’s quickly dragged into helping the town - Karl’s never been able to resist assisting those in need and the bartender, who looks far too young to be by himself let alone running a whole establishment, has deep bruises underneath his eyes and his shoulders are slumped as if he’s barely holding on. Though his heart hurts while he does it, Karl forces the bandits out of the saloon even as they promise they’ll be back. They laugh as they ride away and Karl can’t help but smile. He’s grateful that they have each other in this life - an image of a man with dark, dark hair, a broken mask and a heavy smile rises unbidden to the front of his mind but Karl pushes it away - and that they seem so happy. Rarely do the reincarnations of his friends and loved ones get to live a happy life.

Everything is going alright, they recruit an old banker (who’s love of bees reminds him vividly of a young boy) who’s willing to help run the bandits out of town. Everything is fine until they reach the sheriff’s office and Karl feels his heart plummet into his stomach. Nailed to a post adjacent to the doorway is an unassuming photo of a hybrid with pink skin, a nasty scar over his mouth, and a gold and black mask covering his face. The words “WANTED” are printed in thick, red lettering and Karl’s mouth dries further when he sees just who the sheriff is.

That shouldn’t be possible. Karl may not be the best time traveler - if there even are others - but he does know the basics to keeping the time stream safe and whole. It’s an intrinsic knowledge that he’s always had, even before he started traveling and he never knew _how_ he had this knowledge but he does. In order for time to continue on uninterrupted, there can’t be multiple of the same people in one time period. Since most of the people throughout this server are stuck in a never ending loop of reincarnation, the time stream should remove all possibilities of the same person existing more than once.

But, apparently, something had changed that rule since sitting in behind the sheriff’s desk is a familiar hybrid. Albeit, there’s a new scar vivisecting his left eye and his clothes are much more drab and subdued than the current reincarnation. If this event takes place at the same time as the bloody masquerade, there are some serious problems with time.

He tries to ignore it, though. Tries to tell himself that everything happens for a reason and that there’s nothing he can do about it anyways as this place is already long gone in his time. Karl pushes all thoughts of time streams and paradoxes from his mind and focuses on the raspy drawl of the sheriff. Sherman, he introduces himself as and, though he repeatedly mentions that he’s only a week away from retirement, the hybrid agrees to help them with the bandit problem. His skin crawls when everyone agrees to let the only prisoner, named Crops, accompany them and Karl desperately ignores the bloodstains around the man's mouth.

The shopkeeper, Ron Ronson, makes Karl laugh and he’s extremely grateful for the man being able to bring a smile to the citizens' faces even without meaning to. Ron is a good example of what loneliness and isolation can do to a person and the time traveler wants to help but he knows the man is already too far gone.

All too soon, it’s noon the next day and they’re preparing for a standoff. Karl’s never been fond of standoffs such as these - he hadn’t been on the server for the original duel between Dream and Tommy but he knows it wasn’t pretty - they’re too bloody and cruel for his taste. He doesn’t think about how Jack and Mason are probably going to die in minutes. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he _doesn’t_.

He shuts down as Sherman and Flint move to stand back to back to each other, switching to autopilot as he counts down from ten. Karl can barely feel the numbers on his tongue as his eyes focus on Jack and Mason across the small pond. They’re standing impossibly close to each other’s sides and, if he were anyone else he would think they’re being aloof and uncaring, but Karl knows his fiancé’s in any life and recognizes the tense shoulders and impassive faces for what they are; fear.

“One,” spills from his lips and Flint barely has the time to turn around before the sheriff fires his crossbow. The arrow flies through the air, whistling as it cuts the wind, and buries itself straight into the other man’s chest, right above his heart. He falls without a sound, blond hair spilling out around him as crimson blood pools around him. It takes three long seconds before Flint’s body starts to crumble into ash before disappearing entirely, likely respawning where the bandits slept. There’s a long moment of silence as Jack and Mason stare blankly at where Flint’s body disappeared and their faces send a stab of pain so strong through Karl that he loses his breath.

He wants to call out to them so bad, to take them in his arms and promise that everything’s going to be alright. (Even though nothing will, nothing is ever okay.)

Karl can see the rage on Jack’s face as he volunteers to go next, can see how Mason’s hand tightens around his arm and the two share a long look. Usually, Karl can read their faces like a book but they’re too far away now for him to truly understand what they’re saying to each other with their eyes. His heart sits heavy on his chest, weighing down his whole body as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s about to watch one of his fiancé's die _again_.

Around him, the standoff continues. Crops, the man-eater that makes his skin crawl violently, is chosen to go up against Jack and the countdown is started. As the tip of the arrow hits its mark at Jack’s throat. An instant kill. Karl wants to cry. He wants to scream and shout and rage about how unfair all of this is.

 _“We don’t deserve this,”_ his mind cries out desperately as his body breaks down even as he stands still. _“What did we ever do to deserve being stuck in this cycle?”_

It doesn’t matter. His thoughts never do, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling the white hot pain that shoots through his fiancé. Jack falls, disappearing into code and ash before all of their eyes and Karl understands the silent, furious anger that shows in Mason’s tense muscles. Before Karl can protest, the young bartender, John, is volunteered by the others into the next duel.

This standoff is just as quick and brutal as the other two. As soon as the count of ten winds down, an arrow meets its mark in John John’s chest. The boy falls to his knees and takes one last breath of air before his body shuts down and he follows the same route as Flint and Jack. As the body disappears, the only things left in his stead are tens of milk buckets that had been tucked into his inventory. (Unbidden, the image of another boy, one wrapped in crimson vines, rises in his mind but Karl forces the thought away for now.)

He feels anger rise in him, searing and forceful, and Karl stalks towards the past reincarnation of his soulmate. Karl wonders what kind of life this Mason has lived to think killing a boy is okay. (It may be a dog eat dog world on this server but Karl refuses to believe children should be involved in these things.) Ignoring the screaming in his mind that tells him to not get involved, that he’ll only get hurt, Karl challenges Mason to another duel between the two of them.

The crossbow between his hands shake minutely, the only sign of Karl’s true emotions but he stands steadfast as Sherman begins the countdown. Karl pulls back the string, cocking the arrow in preparation for firing. The second the sheriff reaches one, he’s spinning on his heels and fires the bow blind. Somehow - for Karl has never been the best shot - the arrow hits true and Mason falls. He scrubs his eyes violently, not willing to let the tears burning behind his eyes fall.

All too soon, the standoffs finishes and the bandits have been dealt with. The remaining townspeople cheer and thank Karl for his help, though the man doesn’t think he deserves their praise. He’s quick to leave though, his heart has been torn into little pieces by these last few travels and he’s ready to be back in his own time. He yearns to be in the arms of his fiancé’s and to be distracted from these horrible events.

Of course, he has to tread through the In Between before he can get home. The pure white dimension soothes the ache in his heart momentarily - this place has always felt so safe, so much like home that sometimes it’s hard to remember that he can’t stay here for long. There’s a moment, too brief to wrap his head around, where Karl can see other versions of himself from thousands and thousands of different timelines. It’s gone as soon as it’s started and the next thing he knows, he’s tumbling back into present day.

It’s always disorienting, tumbling through the time stream with millions of different time periods and parallel universes swirling around him. Thankfully, the trip doesn’t last long before he collides with hard ground. Taking a moment to orient himself, Karl finds himself on the outskirts of L’Manburg’s crater, near where his library used to be.

There’s a bout of lilting laughter behind him and he’s quick to scramble to his feet and turn around. By some miracle, the figures behind him are turned away so they hadn’t seen Karl tumble out of the green and purple vortex. It takes a moment for Karl to realize the two people in the distance are his fiancés, Quackity and Sapnap. They have their arms wrapped around each other and are swaying to nonexistent music.

Karl watches as Quackity leans in closer to Sapnap, a smirk playing on his lips and he can see the younger man’s lips move. Sapnap erupts into laughter, the sound slightly raspy and muffled by the distance but Karl has heard it more than enough times to fill in the gaps. A smile rises to his own lips. It’s so like his fiancé’s to make him feel better without doing anything, without realizing anything was wrong in the first place.

Prime, he’s so glad they found each other again and he hopes this isn’t the first time. Karl would give up everything about himself if it meant his fiancés were safe and happy. He watches them with a quiet smile before they turn, noticing him and wasting no time waving him over. The time traveler will relish this moment for however long it lasts, adamant to put the latest events out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect this chapter to be so long but here we are. Hope you enjoy! <3 Feel free to leave kudos/comments, they fuel me!
> 
> Love all of you and stay safe! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially, this series will follow the Tales from the SMP episodes canonically (unless I later decide to make it into a full AU) but is more of a character introspection for Karl. I just recently watched all the episode (except Gogtopia, srry) and have fallen in love with them and Karl's character. He is now my other comfort character besides Tommy lmao. I have the first four chapters written already but I'll be posting them spaced out by a couple days. 
> 
> Write any lore theories/ideas you guys have the dsmp/tales because I love to hear them! One of mine is that the characters were cursed (or something idk) to continually reincarnate so that's why they're always stuck in the dsmp and it has something to do with the egg. (It's not flushed out but I like the idea of it). 
> 
> Love you guys! Enjoy and here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cracklesnapple1) if you want it.


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